


Love Is Dead (And We Have Killed It)

by MajesticMingyu



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Basically 10 Things I Hate About You But Gay, Bruv this fic gon burn so slow you could smoke salmon on it, Crack Treated Seriously, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, M/M, Or at least an attempt of it, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticMingyu/pseuds/MajesticMingyu
Summary: “Okay, hear me out,” Junhui begins, leaning forward in his seat eagerly, “We find a guy - preferably a gay one so things are a little less complicated - and we say; ‘Hey dude, Jihoon here is being tortured by his Satan-incarnate of a stepsister because she can’t date until he does. However, he has commitment issues, is emotionally inept, and doesn’t want to date anyone for real. So, like, could you maybe fake date him? ”Or: Jihoon is too busy trying to save the music department from going under and avoid being expelled in the process. He certainly doesn't have any time to fake-date the school's new heartthrob and be stupid enough to fall for him.(Spoiler: He does anyway.)





	1. It Was Accidental Arson, Mom

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is my first fic and I have no idea what im doing :))
> 
> Also! In regards to the group chat:  
> FlamingHeterosexual - Junhui  
> MemeWhore96 - Soonyoung  
> AsianEinstein - Wonwoo  
> 164cmOfAnger - It’s self explanatory let’s be real

 

Jihoon's life is an infinite succession of clusterfucks.

Sometimes he considers the possibility that the universe is conspiring against him.

Like the cosmos sat down for tea on that Autumn afternoon he was born, and had asked themselves: “ _Whose life should we continuously shit on for no apparent reason?”_ and then one particular asshole of a nebula had pointed to him and said: _“What about that guy?”_

However, he then remembers, that in the grander scheme of things, he is but a mere vessel of subatomic particles, clinging to an arbitrary planet that’s incubated by a dying star, whom is ultimately too insignificant for the universe to possibly give a shit about.

Which, frankly, just proves his theory that interminable series of misfortune have nothing to do with the stars not aligning, or black cats and broken mirrors, or whatever other stupid superstitions his cousin, Junhui, reads about in his  _Teen Weekly_ magazines. The universe just does whatever the hell it wants, and has no consideration for how humanity suffers at its expense.

So, to understand how/why Jihoon has found himself in yet another clusterfuck, we have to begin with this simple premise:

 _On a scale of America to North Korea, the amount of Free Speech you can express at_ _Wisteria High is by far the latter._

The principal, Mr Wright, is essentially an overweight version of Benito Mussolini. He has this Mustache (it’s akin to Hitler’s but bushier which, Jihoon guesses, ties in quite well with the whole Dictator Aesthetic he has going) and people claim that when you’re up real close, you can see it move by itself. Like it’s sentient. A truly living, breathing, thing.

Jihoon's staring at it right now. He stares at it whenever he’s here.

As much as he’d like to say this is his first time being in such a situation, it’s not. Just yesterday he was in this same office, in this same ass-numbing plastic chair, due to a conflict that took place between him and his English teacher, Mr Mcclain. (Or as Jihoon has personally dubbed him, ‘Mr Mcpain-In-The-Ass’). Long story short, his teacher insisted on him reading in front of the class, but Jihoon has a philosophy that involves never speaking unless it’s voluntary. Mr Mcpain-In-The-Ass apparently didn't know the definition of ‘ _I’ll pass'_ so Jihoon had given him a tight-lipped smile and said, rather eloquently; " _Thou art the son & heir of a mongrel bitch.” _

(FIY: _“Thou art the son & heir of a mongrel bitch"  _roughly translates from Shakespearean to Modern Day English as: “ _You’re not just a son of a bitch, you’re the heir of that bitch. Also, that bitch isn’t just a regular bitch, she’s a mongrel bitch.”)_

“Do you know why I’ve asked you and your mother to come in this evening, Jihoon?”

“Because I started a protest.”

“And why did you feel the need to do that?”

“Because you cut funding to the music department. Because, _apparently_ , adding extensions to the gym and buying new uniforms and equipment for the football team, is more important than students having a means to express their artistry.”

Principal Wright swiftly ignores his remark in favor of picking up a neon yellow Incident Report and beginning to read. “You had picket signs, a soap box, a megaphone, and the entire Orchestra, Band and Choir behind you. Somehow fire got involved, and what began as a somewhat-peaceful uprising against what you call the ‘ _systemic oppression that is Sport Supremacy_ ’ turned into a riot.”

“Indeed it did, Mr Wright. Indeed it did _._ ”

The Mustache momentarily shifts out of anger. Jihoon cannot decipher if it’s because Mr Wright himself is mad and his facial muscles are simply responding to that sentiment, _or_ if the Mustache is mad on its own accord.

“I don’t think you quite understand the severity of your actions, Mr Lee.”

“Oh no, Sir,” Jihoon replies with faux sincerity, placing a hand upon his heart. “God forbid your students stand up for what they believe in. I completely understand how inappropriate my behavior truly was.”

“ _Jihoon!_ ” His mother berates quickly, going in for damage control by apologizing for his behavior and pleading for as minuscule of a punishment as possible. It’s a shame his stepfather isn’t here. He could probably pull some lawyer cards. Like plead insanity or something. Right now his mothers usual My Son Isn’t _That_ Problematic speech is falling short.

Mr Wright fixes Jihoon with a stern look. “This is your Junior year and you have so much potential, Mr Lee." He says. "You need to make sure your energy is being channeled into what matters.”

“So, expressing my opinion and the opinion of others doesn’t count as something that matters?”

“Jihoon, I know you are dissatisfied-”

“I’m internally seething.”

“-but there is nothing to be done. The next matter we have to address is the punishment you and your accomplices must face.”

Jihoon almost laughs because, really, _accomplices_? What the fuck is this? An actual court case? But suddenly all he can think of are the bright-eyed freshmen from Choir who were convinced this would work. The skeptic sophomores in Band who took some convincing. The juniors who were willing to do anything to have music subjects next year. The semi-unambitious seniors in Orchestra who didn’t apply for Music Captain which meant Jihoon was given the role by default after being elected the ‘Most Competent’ for the job. Oh, the irony...

“In all due respect, Mr Wright, the protest was completely my idea. I wrongly took advantage of my position of power and persuaded others to partake in it. If anyone deserves punishment, it’s me and me alone.”

Both Mr Wright and his mother look at him as though he just grew a second head. It’s understandable. Jihoon usually doesn’t take responsibility for his actions. It’s one of the reasons Soonyoung thinks he’s a sociopath. (“ _You’re callous, you have a lack of remorse, you’re emotionally shallow, and you live a parasitic lifestyle. You’re basically a serial killer, Ji!”_ )

“Well, alright, then.” Mr Wright straightens up, like he’s rehearsed what he’s about to say for months. Perhaps he has. “After assessing your actions today, and the numerous transgressions you have committed in the past, the faculty and I have decided you will be suspended for a week, and your position as Music Captain will also be revoked. This is your last warning, Mr Lee. Any further disturbance or conflict that you create within Wisteria High will result in your expulsion. Do you understand?”

Jihoon wants to punch Mr Wright in the face. Or,  _at least_ verbally abuse him. But he decides against it in favor of biting his tongue until it bleeds and nodding stiffly.

“Wonderful.” Mr Wright says, smiling like the asshat he is. The Mustache smiles too. “Now, could you please wait in the foyer? I’d like to speak to your mother privately.”

Jihoon doesn't reply, he simply gets up from his ass-numbing plastic chair and lets the door slam on his way out.

He comes to the conclusion that there are people in this world who endure a lot of shit (aka him), and then there are people whose lives just have a propensity of perfection. You know _those_ people? The ones who carry themselves like they know who they are, and what they want to be, and probably don’t know the first thing about being caught in a clusterfuck? Yeah, upon entering the administration foyer, Jihoon catches sight of one of _those_ people.

It’s a guy, probably around his age. Maybe older. He’s the only other person here, save for the receptionist, whom he seems to be having an important conversation with. Jihoon stares at him long enough for it to be in the area between Appropriate and Creepy and comes to two suppositions:

  1. This guy is a new student.
  2. The Gods composed his genetic makeup.



He is objectively attractive. Anyone with eyes (or eye, as in singular, because Jihoon doesn’t discriminate against cyclopes) could clearly acknowledge that. With his sun kissed skin, a jawline that could slice a sizable watermelon, and his tall and athletic build. Jihoon can already tell the girls are going to go bat-shit crazy as soon as he steps out into the school yard. He also hypothesizes that it won’t take more than a few days for him to be swept up by the grandeur that is the Popular Crowd and be completely and utterly corrupted. Although, that’s assuming he’s not _already_ corrupted. Which, of course, is a plausible prospect. But-

Jihoon’s pondering is interrupted by the receptionist (who usually mirrors him with the whole ‘Dead Inside Vibe’) letting out a shrill of laughter. It's something that probably hasn’t been heard since the prehistoric ages. So, this New Guy is cute _and_ funny. That doesn’t seem fair at all. Or, maybe, but this is really just wishful thinking - she only laughed _because_ he’s cute. Jihoon’s found that if you’re good looking everything you say is somehow funnier. He can’t relate. Not many people laugh at his morbid humor despite it being comedic genius. But whatever. There’s no point in trying to analyze some guy who he’ll ultimately have nothing to do with. Jihoon has better things to spend his time doing. Like ripping the old football _‘Try Out!_ ’ poster off the bulletin board behind him.

Jihoon stands up from his seat, his hands in a Ready-To-Rip position at the corners of the A3 atrocity. He relishes in the satisfying sound that comes with quite literally tearing down tyranny. Fast forward a minute or so, and Jihoon’s arm is practically halfway down a recycling bin, discarding of the evidence when he hears:

“I’m guessing you’re not a fan of football?”

Jihoon turns towards the voice so quickly he’s surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. The New Guy is sitting in a seat directly opposite to Jihoon’s own. His arms are crossed tightly against his chest, accentuating his biceps, and there’s an amused, close-lipped smile on his face where one corner of his mouth goes up higher than the other. Was he watching Jihoon this whole time? Did he see Jihoon crumple the poster in fury before throwing it into the bin? Did he see Jihoon put one foot into said bin in an effort to trample said poster in a blinded rage? Yes. Yes he did.

Jihoon shoves the poster further downwards, returns to an upright position and answers:

“I’m not a fan of fascist propaganda.”

 

**GROUP CHAT**

**THE AWESOME FOURSOME**

 

 **164cmOfAnger:** I crave death

 

 **FlamingHeterosexual** : when do u not?

 **MemeWhore96** : I m guesing ur meating w/ teh principole dn’t go welll

 **AsianEinstein:** How?

 **AsianEinstein:** How do you fuck up a sentence that badly?

 

 **164cmOfAnger:** The music dept is officially deceased. The funeral's next weekend.

 

 **FlamingHeterosexual:** dude surely you can still save it there’s gotta be /something/

 **AsianEinstein:** Yeah, don’t let the Music Dept face the same fate as the Gardening Club did.

 **MemeWhore96** : *wistful sigh* oh teh gardenin club…

 **MemeWhore96** : it will 5eva b missed (◡﹏◡✿)

 **FlamingHeterosexual** : noah fence, but the only reason people went to that thing

 **FlamingHeterosexual:** was so they could oogle @ the way u handled those eggplants, won

 **Memewhore96:** tbh i don’t blamne them

 **Memewhore96:** wonnie looks daddie asf wen he handles eeggoplants ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

 **FlamingHeterosexual** : [eggplant emoji] [squirt squirt emoji] [other emoji that makes reference to hand job imagery]

**AsianEinstein:**

 

 **AsianEinstein** : @164cmOfAnger Let’s commit double suicide. You free tomorrow?

 

 **164cmOfAnger:** Busy.

 **164cmOfAnger:** Sunday?

 

 **AsianEinstein** : Sure. I have to ask my mom though.

 

 

“Jihoon, put down your phone. We’re at the dinner table and have serious matters to discuss.”

Despite the fact that Jinae is sitting no less than half a meter beside him, with her thumbs practically glued to the screen of her own cellular device, Jihoon does as he’s told and looks up to face his mother.

“The principal,” she sighs, as if about to diagnose him with a terminal illness, “has suggested you start seeing a school counselor.”

Jihoon wishes he _had_ a terminal illness. “Why?”

“ _Oh, I’m not sure._ ” Her sarcasm is apparent. “Perhaps it has some correlation to you committing an act of arson and using Shakespearean insults on your teachers.”

“It was _accidental_ arson.” Jihoon corrects. “I don’t need counseling, mom-”

“You’re right.” His mother is quick to interject, shaking her head and cutting further into her piece of chicken. “It’s that _public_ school.” Her voice is laced with the kind of Public School Prejudice that comes with years of cultivation. “It’s not a good environment for you.”

His stepfather spares a second away from the NFL game playing on the television to grumble something along the lines of: _“I went there, my father went there, my father’s father went there. It’s tradition.”_

Jihoon’s one-and-a-half-year-old stepsister, Jiyeon - who was a result of their mother trying to save her current marriage - lets out a string of sounds that probably mean: " _Just because it’s tradition doesn’t mean it’s morally correct, dad.”_

“I should enroll you two in that private school that Jisoo goes to!” His mother continues. “He’s such a _nice_ boy. So kind-hearted and well-mannered!"

Jihoon’s pretty sure that if his mother heard some of the tracks from Jisoo’s latest Soundcloud Hip Hop album - in which he performs under the name of ‘ _Rap God Lil Ji_ ’- her opinion of the Nice Christian Boy Who Lives Next Door would change drastically. Plus, Keaton Prep is for extremely wealthy, intelligent and well behaved individuals. Jihoon doesn’t check off a single area of that criterion.

Jinae looks up with a prominent scowl, the clicking sounds that had previously emitted from her phone coming to a halt. “Um, you’re not sending _me_ to Keaton because of _Jihoon’s_ delinquency.”

The said boy scoffs in response. “Oh, please spare her, mother. Wisteria High is her life, her kingdom. You just _can’t_ deprive her of bossing around those mindless drones she calls her friends and sucking face with Mingyu Kim behind the bleachers.”

Jinae swiftly tells him to shut up whilst utilizing her spoon to fling mashed potato at his head. Jihoon dodges it all with practiced finesse, ready to fling some mashed potato of his own before their mother is chastising, “Cut it out, both of you!” and then suddenly pausing, as though remembering something vital and- “Who’s Mingyu Kim?”

_Oh, Fuck._

_Oh, Fuckitty Fuck._

A thick, ominous silence falls upon the table as their mother awaits a reply. After mustering up enough courage, Jinae places down her cutlery and calmly says, “Mom,” as if approaching a wild and extremely provoked hyena. “He’s _just_ a friend.”

Their mother gently places her own knife and fork on the side of her plate and smiles at her children passive-aggressively. “Jihoon, perhaps you could remind your stepsister what the 27th rule of this household is?”

He’s in the middle of stabbing a piece of broccoli when he replies: “We can’t date until we graduate. Preferably from a law, business or medical school.”

Jinae unexpectedly slams her fists against the wooden table with the strength of a MMA fighter. It shocks everyone except Jiyeon, who seems to find it hilarious. “We all know that rule only applies to me! If Jihoon started dating someone you wouldn’t care!”

“Okay, but here’s the thing - I _wouldn’t_ start dating someone. Ever. It’s a waste of time and emotions and either ends in a breakup, divorce or death.”

“See? Why can’t you be more like your stepbrother, Jinae?”

And Jesus Christ on a pogo stick that’s a fucking first! It’s almost always the other way around! (" _Look how nice your stepsister looks, Jihoon, please change into something that isn’t ripped and/or offensive we’re going to see your grandparents.”_ and “ _Jihoon, why can’t you listen to Pop like Jinae does instead of that Heavy Metal Classical music with the Satanic Overtones?”)_

“Literally everyone in my grade is dating, mom!”

“If everyone in your grade jumped off a bridge, would you do the same?” Her father asks lazily, eyes still glued to the television.

Whilst mercilessly smashing peas under the weight of a plastic spoon, Jiyeon says, “Bah!” which probably means: _“Well, she could wait until everyone else has jumped, then she’d have a soft pile of bodies to land on.”_

“Look, I really like Mingyu, mom, and I guarantee you that he’s super sweet! Tell her, Jihoon!”

It is in this moment that Jihoon realizes he could be truthful and say: _“Indeed, Mingyu Kim is perfect boyfriend material. He volunteers at the local dog shelter, has straight B’s, makes a mean apple strudel, and is oblivious to the extent that it’s almost endearing rather than annoying. Almost._ ” But there would be no fun in that, so instead Jihoon clears his throat and says: “He sells meth to middle schoolers.”

Jinae sends him a glare that holds the ferocity of a thousand suns and chaos descends upon the table. As his stepfather raises the volume of the television so he can hear it over all the incessant shouting, Jihoon briefly wonders why he’s even lying in the first place. After all, Jinae could date a Tattooed Biker or The Actual Pope and their mother would probably flip her shit equally over both.

“Fine! If you hate that rule so much I’m putting forth a new one!” Mrs Lee declares, suddenly rising from her seat. “You can date,” she points to Jinae, “when _he_ dates.” She points to Jihoon.

“Why are you bringing me into this?!” Jihoon asks incredulously, letting out a groan on par to that of a seizuring pterodactyl.

Immediately after doing so, he has a brief war flashback to the time he and Wonwoo had to pick up a drunken Soonyoung from a party, and the entire way home he had cried into soggy $1 fries from Teddy’s Diner because they, as the human race, could never definitively know what dinosaurs _actually_ sounded like. _“There were no MP3’s from 230 million years ago, Jihoon.”_ He had lamented, as the melancholic melody of ‘Everybody Hurts' by R.E.M was bleeding through the car radio. " _We have fossils, and we have bones, but we don’t have MP3’s.”_

Jihoon’s reverie is suddenly broken by a blood curdling scream of, “I take it back! I want the old rule! Give me the old rule back!” But alas, it is too late. Their mother fishes a piece of chalk from the mason jar beside the fridge, rubs out the original 27th Household Rule with the sleeve of her blazer, and writes the new commandment in cursive.

 _Jinae won’t date until Jihoon does_.

“And it will stay that way,” their mother insists, “until you’re both in the ground being eaten by worms!”

So, it’s irreversible, absolute, and a bunch of other synonyms that make reference to something that cannot be undone or altered. It’s set in stone – or, well, it’s set in chalkboard if we’re going to be _technical,_ and just like a faulty water pipe that’s been clogged with too much of God knows what - Jinae bursts.

“Now I’m never going to date! I’m going to literally die alone! At least you have your cat, you asshole!” She screams, pointing to where Pawdrey Hepburn is fast asleep in front of the lounge room heater.

Jihoon feels the need to correct her because:

  1. Everyone dies alone.
  2. Pawdrey isn’t only _his_ cat. If she’s anyone's, she’s Wonwoo’s. He’s the one who named her after all. But really she belongs to his entire group of friends, for all four of them found her, and now care for her in a rotation of sorts, as if she’s a child on shared custody. (Excluding Junhui who’s allergic to fur and instead declared that he would shower Pawdrey with his unconditional love and support from a distance that doesn’t result in him contracting hives.)



Jihoon doesn’t get to tell her either of these things, though, because she’s already out of her seat, clambering up the stairs with heavy footsteps, screaming; “I have nobody and I never will!” before slamming her bedroom door so hard, that Jihoon swears the walls quiver in terror.

“You called your stepbrother an asshole! That’s a dollar in the swear jar!” Jihoon's stepfather belatedly calls out just as his mother slumps back into her seat. She fills up her wine glass to the brim with red liquid and takes a sip before tiredly asking, “I don’t have to worry about you being like that do I, Jiyeon?”

The said girl makes a gurgling noise before slamming her hands onto the tray of her highchair. This _basically_ means: _“Don’t worry, mom. The human body carries up to 30 to 50 trillion cells of bacteria. I have no intention of coming into contact with such filth.”_

 


	2. He's A Pinch Of Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, Kudoed (is that a word? I'm making it a word) and commented on the last chap! I highkey didn't expect people to be into it so I'm kfwelfjeqbf1?!

 

It’s an indisputable truth that Monday morning’s suck ass.

However, this Monday morning is particularly more suck-ass-ish because Jihoon is about to exit one prison only to soon enter another.

Honestly, he was surprised by how quickly his one-week sentence passed. He thought he'd be led to the extremities of scratching tally marks on the door of his bedroom cell, and writing letters to loved ones about how the walls were closing in and he could no longer go on. After all, it’s not like he’s had any previous experience. There was the one time he _almost_ got suspended for shoving the arm of a self-proclaimed racist up a tuba (although, Jihoon is still under the impression that they shoved their _own_ arm up the tuba) and that was ultimately written off as a ‘minor misdemeanor.'

Jihoon supposes what it all came down to, was finding ways to distract himself from the crippling boredom. Hence why he’s started writing what is soon to be a bestselling memoir: ‘Maintaining A Semblance Of Sanity Whilst On Suspension’. It’s possibly his best work to date, and within its pages holds a plethora of helpful tips and tricks. Such as, but not limited to:

  * Cut out a photograph of your principal from an old yearbook and stick it to a dart board. Proceed to mercilessly throw those sharp little missiles out of indignation. Bonus points if you hit him in his sentient Mustache.
  * Aggressively perform the 1st movement of ‘Winter’ from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on the violin. Your stepfather will most definitely shout from downstairs, " _Jihoon! You need to find better coping mechanisms! Old Lady Abernathy just came over to make a noise complaint!”_ The key is to ignore him.
  * Attempt to complete an analytical essay on ‘1984’ for your English class until you realise that comparing the illiberal government that George Orwell portrays in his novel to the illiberal faculty of your high school will probably earn you a one-way ticket to Expelled Town and, subsequently, Homelessness. You should just take a nap instead.



“I’m serious, Jihoon,” His mother reiterates, searching the kitchen for her keys. “You’re returning to school today, and you’re going to be on your best behavior. If you get into trouble one more time you’ll end up at Hillside High. The students do narcotics over there, Jihoon. Someone was _shanked_ just two days ago outside the school gates.”

Jihoon sighs wistfully. “Lucky them.”

His mother frowns, placing one hand on her hip, the other occupied by holding Jiyeon at her side. “I need you to promise that you’ll stop back chatting teachers, and stop causing conflict over the music department, and just accept things for the way they are.”

“Do you think anything beneficial would have ever happen to the world if everyone just accepted things for the way they were?”

“I think the world would be a better place if it just listened to its mother.”

Jihoon forcefully shoves a spoon of Cap'n Crunch into his mouth.

Making this promise means submitting to Mr Wright and his unjust sovereignty. It means giving up on the #SaveTheMusicInitiative, and devastating all of those who had any faith in it. But Jihoon realises, regrettably, that trying to continue the movement would be futile, anyway. It always was futile. The protest was essentially their last resort (next to killing off the entire faculty, which Jihoon would have totally been down for if it didn’t require so much strenuous effort) and they’d tried, and they’d failed. Having hope in any of it to begin with was already a difficult feat for him. Because if Jihoon's learnt anything from the moment he was conceived - without his permission, may he add - then it would be the fact that hope only prolongs the torment of man.

Jihoon decides he’s never going to be optimistic again and swallows the last of his cereal. “Fine,” he says, in defeat. “I promise.”

Mrs Lee nods out of satisfaction, spotting her keys next to the fish tank where Pawdrey is eyeing-off some guppies. She’s out the front door with a customary: “ _Make good choices and don’t talk to strangers!”_ thrown over her shoulder, and then she’s off to pilates, or yoga, or  _something_. It’s quiet for a total of 0.32 seconds, and then Jinae enters the room with a painful, saccharine shrill of, “ _Hey, Joonie~_ ” and the tranquil ambiance is shattered into small and pitiful smithereens.

She’s using the Cute/Gross voice. The Grute voice. The one she uses when asking for extra pocket money, or trying to get out of chores, or disguising her likeness to Lucifer.

“What do you want?”

“Why do you assume I _want_ something? I’m just greeting my stepbrother on this lovely Monday morning!”

Pawdrey hisses at her. Some animals can sniff out truffles, or cocaine from the airport luggage of drug smugglers, but Pawdrey can sniff out _lies._

“What kind of dressing would you like on your bullshit salad?” Jihoon inquires. “Do you want it topped with chicken? Perhaps some avocado?”

“What do you mean?” Jinae asks innocently, batting her eyelashes and holding her face in her hands, elbows resting against the island countertop.

“When mom isn’t around, your default greeting for me is ' _Sup, Little Dipshit._ ' You never say ‘ _Hey, Joonie_ ~’ unless you have ulterior motives. So, cut the crap and get on with it.”

Jinae straightens her posture and clicks her tongue in disapproval. “So much _attitude._ ” She mutters, crossing her arms against the red and gold of her Cheer uniform. “I’m going to set you up!”

Jihoon stares at her blankly. “With what?”

“With a boyfriend, _obviously_.”

Jihoon glances at the chalkboard next to the fridge, sees the new Household Rule that is #27 blaring back at him in between #26 (In Case Of Emergency, Call Mom First And Then 911) and #28 (Don’t Stand Too Close To The Microwave, The Electromagnetic Radiation Can Give You Polio.)

“So you can be with Mingyu.”

“Exactly! It’s the least you could do considering this is _all_ your fault.”

Jihoon doesn’t have the time or energy for this conversation. Nor does he think he ever will. Soonyoung’s probably already out the front in his minivan  _Gerald_ and Jihoon needs precisely ten minutes of absolute silence to prepare his ear holes for the onslaught that is Billy Ray Cyrus’ entire discography. Soonyoung put that dreaded disk in the stereo _one time_ to piss them off because they never pay for gas, and now it’s fucking stuck in there until the end of time itself.

“You realize you could just disregard the rule and date him secretly, right?”

Jinae gives him a look that says,  _duh, of course I do._ “But by doing that you’d have the upper hand of exposing me at any given moment, and if mom finds out she’ll be sad _and_ mad, Jihoon. I can’t deal with that. Unlike you, I don’t get gratification from disappointing people.”

Jihoon attempts to chew louder in an effort not to hear her. She simply raises her voice in retaliation.

“I know some guys from outside of school who are cute and - for some weird reason - interested in you. I mean, they’re only interested because they don’t go to Wisteria and therefore don’t know how much of a standoffish _jerk_ you are. But they’re interested nonetheless.”

“That sounds like a riveting offer.” Jihoon replies impassively, finishing off his breakfast and placing his dirty dishes into the sink. “It really, truly does. But I’m gonna have to pass.”

He makes his way towards the exit of the kitchen. Jinae stops in front of him. “That’s cute, Jihoon.” She coos condescendingly. “You’re acting like you have a choice. You’re _going_ to date someone.”

“ _Or what_?”

“Or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“You already do that by simply existing.”

Jihoon is unphased. It’s not the first time his Evil Stepsister has threatened him, nor will it be the last. It’s not like she's _actually_ going to do anything. Jinae is practically the personification of an empty threat.

“Jihoon, if you consider  _this_ hell, you’re only on the first level. This elevator can only go down from here.”

“Cool.” He flings open the front door. “With any luck I’ll have brunch with Beelzebub.”

 

His dirty Adidas make their way down the stairs of the front porch, and Wonwoo reaches over from the backseat to honk Gerald’s horn in greeting.

Let’s briefly backtrack to the beginning of summer break, when Jihoon had been at his desk, working on a composition, and Soonyoung’s head had popped up upon his windowsill. “I found us a friend.” He had said, and Jihoon didn’t even bother to fix him an unamused stare before replying, “I already told you, my mom doesn’t like it when you bring wildlife into the house, Soonyoung.” To which the said boy had gleefully responded, “No! It’s an _actual_ human being this time!”

The actual human being was Wonwoo Jeon. A lanky, spectacle-wearing specimen who was expelled from Keaton Prep for a reason unbeknownst to mankind. Initially, Jihoon had surmised this reason was homicide. He didn’t have much evidence to back up the claim other than this:  

_Reasons Why Wonwoo’s homicidal: Because it takes a homicidal maniac to know another homicidal maniac_

  1. He expresses about as much emotion as a packet of uncooked ramen noodles.
  2. He says he enjoys dissecting the animals in Bio-Lab and would like to do something similar as a career.  
  3. He can often be seen reading books with really obscure titles like; _‘The Beginners Guide To Human Sacrifice’_ or ‘ _How To Raise Your IQ By Eating Gifted Children._ ’ And Junhui had once asked, “Are you reading that to stop people from talking to you, or is it actually good?” and Wonwoo had just replied, “Yes.”



But then Jihoon came to understand that Wonwoo grows baby cacti, runs a Tumblr devoted wholly to Animal Crossing, and buys all his size-too-large sweaters in bright, pastel colors. Which, understandably, aren’t exactly the characteristics you would associate with someone capable of murder.

Upon clambering into the minivan with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, the _‘click’_ of Jihoon’s seatbelt admixes with the country drawl of ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ and the obligatory bickerment of Soonyoung and Junhui that comes along with it.

“You have a tendency of idolizing people, Soonyoung. You put them up on this high as fuck pedestal and then you get all disillusioned when you realize they can’t actually reach it.”

“That’s _not_ true!”

“It’s a little true,” adds Wonwoo, “it’s like you see a person and you go: 'Wow, you’re aesthetically appealing, now let me impose favorable character traits onto my fabrication of your personality regardless of whether you actually possess them or not.'”

“Let me guess,” Jihoon speculates, “Junhui was reading out love horoscopes again and now Soonyoung won’t stop waxing poetic about Yuna Choi?”

“Bingo.” Wonwoo answers, eyes unmoving from the Sudoku puzzle on his phone.

(FIY: Yuna Choi is apart of the Track team, a sophomore, and unfortunate enough to be Soonyoung’s Infatuation Of The Month.)

“Look,” the aforementioned boy begins, reversing from the driveway and almost crashing into a mailbox, “she’s literally the human embodiment of everything worth living for-”

Jihoon thinks it’s a far stretch to expect Soonyoung to say something like, " _She’s thrift stores, and autumn leaves, and that feeling you get when you’re lying on your bed and listening to your favorite concerto with a cup of chamomile tea.”_

“-She’s dance, and Mystery Meat Mondays, and that feeling you get when you scratch your balls.”

It was indeed a far stretch of expectation.

“Thank you for that wonderful prose.” Junhui concludes, turning in his seat to face his cousin. “It’s good to have you back, Ji, what's your first order of business whilst on parole? Wanna hear _your_ horoscope?” He holds up his magazine and wiggles his eyebrows so violently they become reminiscent of caterpillars having an aneurysm. Jihoon fights back a smile (because he’s missed this, and he’s missed them, despite the fact that he’d never willingly admit it) and replies, “I’d rather be impaled.”

(And they almost _do_ get impaled when Soonyoung swerves the minivan to avoid hitting a squirrel and- _“Dude, our livelihoods are at stake here be careful!”_ and " _Fuck you, Junhui, that tree rodent has more nuts than any of us ever will!”)_

 

This aforementioned near death-experience is basically the highlight of Jihoon’s morning. The rest of it is spent in ‘The Period Of Suffering’. Or, as it’s more commonly known, ‘Gym Class’.

Mr Kim - or Namjoon, as he prefers his students to call him because: “ _The very concept that you must adapt your language to cater to my supposedly higher status within this hierarchical environment, does nothing but reinforce the very social constructs by which we are forced to live and unable to liberate ourselves of_ ” - declared they’d be playing dodgeball.

P.E is, as expected, the bane of Jihoon’s existence. He could probably think of a million other things that would be more enjoyable than fucking P.E. (Being castrated is one of those things.) So, at the start of each match, Jihoon has no hesitation whatsoever in standing directly in the middle of the crossfire, with his arms spread wide, waiting patiently for someone to hit him. By the end of it all, he’s been so athletically disinclined that his sweat glands realised they were redundant and checked in an early retirement.

“You still have to shower, though,” Mr Kim had said once blowing the final whistle. “You know it’s mandatory, Jihoon. I may be an anarchist but there’s some rules that I have to enforce.”

Jihoon wanted to tell him just how contradictory that statement was, but decided against it in favor of following the rest of the Juniors towards the changing rooms. A bunch of Seniors were already in there, who’d supposedly just finished up a game of soccer on the oval. Jihoon presumes, as he steps out of the shower, that this is why the air around him already smells like body odor, hyper-masculinity and old roadkill.

He’s in the middle of simultaneously drying his hair and carelessly shoving his sports uniform into his gym locker when Junhui asks, “Do you know Seungcheol Choi?”

“Who?”

His cousin points towards the direction of the sinks and Jihoon follows his index finger to see The New Guy resting at the end of it. The New Guy, whom apparently, is named Seungcheol Choi. Jihoon can’t help but acknowledge how different he looks under the shitty locker-room lighting. Different, but still envy inducingly attractive.

“Well?” Junhui prompts.

“Huh?” Jihoon responds eloquently.

“Seungcheol Choi. He was staring at you when we walked in. I don’t think he was checking you out, don’t get your hopes up. It was more like he recognised you from somewhere.”

“We...talked once?” Jihoon offers noncommittally, which only causes Junhui to make a familiar hand gesture that Jihoon has come to understand as meaning: ' _Elaborate. Tell me more. You’re being vague and I dislike that.’_ “In the administrative foyer,” Jihoon continues, “I was there. He was there. An exchanging of words took place.”

Suddenly, as though the totality of their P.E class had been eavesdropping on their conversation, there’s a bombardment of comments. “ _I heard he’s from California.”_ and _“He’s being recruited to join the varsity football team.”_ and _“I saw him pull up on a Harley-Davidson this morning and nutted on site. No homo, though.”_

“I would’ve nutted too. Full homo.”

“Junhui, you’re straighter than a stripper pole.”

“Hey~” Soonyoung chimes in. “Just because he's vage-tarian doesn’t mean he can’t look at the meat menu.”

“What an off-putting way of putting it.” Wonwoo comments.

Soonyoung then furrows his eyes, his expression morphing into something so serious it becomes almost comical. “I don’t trust him, though. He’s way too good-looking to not be a complete Fuck Boy.”

“I’m just as good looking as he is.” Junhui responds defensively, to which Wonwoo affirms, “Statistically, you’re the biggest Fuck Boy we know.”

Junhui briefly whacks him with a towel, yet makes no effort to protest. Probably because he knows Wonwoo is, as usual, unequivocally correct.

“Make a move on him, Ji.” His cousin says then, but it’s his tone of voice and his teasing smile that tells Jihoon he doesn’t mean it. Why would he? They both know Jihoon can’t flirt (or perform most social tasks) for shit, and on the very, _very_ off-chance he’d actually want to, they also know someone like Seungcheol Choi is completely out of Jihoon’s league. Plus- “He’s clearly straight.”

“ _Oh, Jihoon_ ,” Junhui pities, shaking his head mournfully. “Your Gaydar really _is_ dysfunctional. I’m convinced it’s the reason you’re mistaken for being heterosexual 99.99% of the time.”

Jihoon is fairly certain his faulty Gaydar really isn’t the reason, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is, indeed, mistaken for being heterosexual 99.99% of the time. And this fact is reiterated whenever he’s annoyingly prompted to tell somebody his sexuality and instead of them replying with - _“Oh! I love the gays!”_ or “ _You’re going to burn in the depths of eternal damnation,”_ or even the intentionally nice but high-key ignorant, “ _I fully support your ‘life choice’_ ” - he just gets: “Wait. Jihoon, you’re _not_ straight?” Wonwoo asks, and it’s funny because his voice sounds ever-so-slightly surprised, but his face is conveying absolutely nothing. Junhui motions towards him as if to say; _“See?_ _Exhibit A_.”

They pack up the remainder of their belongings, and Junhui chances one last glance at Seungcheol before pushing open the door of the changing rooms, leading them out of the gym and finally confirming; “Yeah. He’s gay.”

“ _He’s not_. Have you _seen_ him?”

Junhui gasps melodramatically. “You can’t judge someone’s sexuality on their _appearance_ , Jihoon! You of all people should know that!”

“Then what exactly _are_ you judging it on, Junhui?”

“Well, my investigative team saw him listening to the soundtrack of Call Me By Your Name last Wednesday, _and_ he has a rainbow pin on this ancient-ass satchel that he carries around 24/7.”

Soonyoung hums thoughtfully. “That is pretty gay.”

“ _Or,_ ” Wonwoo is quick to interject, “he could just appreciate fine cinema and the natural phenomenon that is an arc or circle which exhibits the colors of the spectrum in concentric bands, and is caused by the refraction and dispersion of the sun's light by rain and/or mist.”

Junhui rolls his eyes so hard Jihoon half expects them to fall back into his brain. “Just trust me, guys, okay?” He urges. “Maybe he’s not  _100%_ gay, but he’s at least a little gay. A pinch of gay. I can feel it in my _soul_.”

“You have a soul?!” Jihoon asks, feigning shock.

Junhui pushes him into a shrub.

 

It’s just after Soonyoung retrieves him from the leafy abyss of a _Buxus microphylla_ (the shrubs scientific name, according to Wonwoo) that Jihoon hears his name being called out from behind them. He swiftly turns to see Nayoung Im, the Captain of Performing Arts. She’s in Jihoon’s AP Music class and is a genuinely pleasant person despite being rather popular. Jihoon is momentarily confused as to why she’s trying to establish verbal communication.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you.” She tells him, smiling. “But you haven’t been here because you set a building on fire and everything.”

 _When did a few flames getting involved in a protest turn into setting a building alight?_ Jihoon thinks to himself.  _The fucking school newspaper and their Fake News..._

“I know we have to get to our next classes soon, so I’ll make this quick." She says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the budget cuts the Music Department is facing, the Art and Drama departments will soon also be facing. Mr Wright is even going to demolish the Amphitheater to make room for a swimming pool, and they’re starting deconstruction in March _next year_.”

Jihoon cringes at the very prospect. Just when he thought the circumstances couldn’t get any worse, it seems whatever higher power there is laughs, sits back in it’s seat, and grabs a bowl of fucking popcorn.

“I have this idea that I came up with whilst I was _non compos mentis_ , but idealistically it would change Mr Wright’s mind about all these funding cuts, and semi-idealistically it would give all The Arts the goodbye they deserve. If they have to go, they shouldn’t go out with a whimper, they should go out with a bang!”

She throws some confetti in the air, as if to add further pizzazz to her compelling monologue and Soonyoung watches it fall to the ground with all the wonder of a small child. Is that a thing with Drama Nerds? Do they just keep confetti in their pockets at all times? Hoping that an opportunity will present itself to use it?

The bell rings.

Jihoon blinks back at her, still trying to process everything that had spilled from her lips. He’d promised this morning that he wouldn’t get involved with anything like this. He’s supposed to let it go, _goddammit_. He’s never supposed to have faith in anything being different ever again, because all that ever does is result in disappointment. And if Mr Wright got word of him participating in the overthrowing of his repressive establishment again, he could be expelled.

He could be _shanked_.

Junhui doesn’t know this when he drapes one arm over Jihoon’s shoulders and says, “You had him at _non compos mentis."_

Nayoung’s eyes light up like an affluent suburban neighborhood on Christmas Eve. “Awesome! I’ll pidgeon-mail you the details soon, Jihoon!”

And in some alternative dimension, where he wasn’t distracted by the absurdity of what Nayoung had _just_ said, Jihoon wouldn’t have missed the death glare Jinae sent him from across the yard. In fact, he would have seen the way it was similar to the death glare she's been sending him for the entirety of the past week. Except this time there’s something darker. There’s something more sinister, determined and ruthless. Perhaps, if he had seen it, he could have prepared himself for what was to come. Because in her eyes rests the silent promise that his life is about to turn to complete and utter shit.

And Jinae always keeps her promises.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the last introduction-like chapter! So the next one is when things will finally kick into gear!  
> Any feedback is much appreciated!


	3. You're a Beatnik, Jihoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY DUDES! IT'S BEEN A HOT MINUET!  
> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I'M SO SORRY THAT IT TOTALLY ISN'T WORTH THE WAIT

 

There are three things you’re expected to lose in high school:

  1. Your virginity
  2. Literally all your stationery from Freshman year
  3. Your will to live



Jihoon can safely say he still has a firm grip on both 1 and 2, and 3 has been slipping in and out of his fingers like an excited eel from the very moment he came to consciousness.

However, this emblematic eel finally slips and falls into a vast and infinite void, showing no signs of definite return, when Jihoon realises his stepsister is sabotaging his livelihood.

It begins when Jihoon comes home from Orchestra practice one afternoon to see all his Heavy-Metal-Screamo-Classical band posters left in shards upon his bedroom carpet, only to be replaced by the likes of 2010 Justin Bieber. It continues when Jihoon opens his closet one morning to find that all his clothing has been bleached (it’s important to note that all Jihoon wears is monochromatic shades of black, because he’s constantly mourning his lack of faith in humanity.) It continues to continue when she cuts the strings of all his guitars, his violin and his cello, mercilessly decapitates his Black Panther plushie, hacks his composing program with several different viruses, and anonymously leaks the Cursed Images of his second grade ballet recital - which have, by the way, effectively undermined any street credibility he ever had.

But the last straw comes in the form of Jinae putting Pawdrey up the oak tree in the backyard. Which, of course, results in Jihoon breaking his right wrist after trying to retrieve her, when he had unceremoniously crashed to the ground. Now, Jihoon _knows_ Jinae put her up there with this intention, because Pawdrey - among many other things such as dogs, loud noises and chili flavored tuna - absolutely _hates_ heights and would _never_ climb up a tree, even if it was for one of those arbitrary reasons as to why cats climb up trees in the first place!

(After a visit to the hospital, Jihoon’s forearm finds itself in a baby pink cast. Although, Jiyeon adamantly argues, “Pwah!” which means:  _“Jihoon, it’s actually Salmon.”)_

And you can mess with a man’s all-black ensemble clothing, okay? You can mess with his room décor, his passions, his dominant hand, and his dignity. But you mess with a man’s shared custody cat and _shit gets fucking real._

 

“I’m going to kill myself.” Jihoon announces, slamming his tray of questionable cafeteria food onto the table where he and the rest of his quartet customarily sit. The whole slamming motion proves to be a slight struggle, considering only one of his hands is functional, but he still manages with minimal spills.

His three friends look up from their lunches, take in his physical state, and as if on cue, all say, “What the fuck happened to you?”

Don’t get him wrong, Jihoon is totally the ‘Suffer In Silence _’_ type. But he’s done with pretending Jinae’s life-ruining endeavors aren’t driving him towards a cliff with a very, _very_ steep drop. So, after collapsing into one of the pull-out plastic chairs, he tells them everything. From the new Household Rule #27, to the initial threat that he’d misinterpreted as empty, to the fact that Jinae isn’t receiving punishment for any of her violations because, according to his stepfather, “ _You can’t accuse people of wrongdoings without sufficient evidence. And no, Jihoon, Pawdrey hissing whenever Jinae denies your accusations does not count.”_  
  
“And to that I say the criminal justice system has failed our society once again!” Jihoon proclaims, angrily biting into a cheese stick.

By the time he’s finished, all is silent (save for the obnoxious chewing and cesspool chatter of their fellow peers) and he’s met with varying degrees of disbelief and pity. Except from Wonwoo, of course, because he _could_ internally feel sorry for you, but externally his face is still going to resemble a small and unchanging rock.

“Jesus Christ,” Soonyoung breathes out, finally breaking the table’s quiet. “I knew your step sister was a witch but this is some Super-Saiyan-Witch-Shit.”

“Wait,” Junhui says, his spoonful of jelly pausing mid air. “So she’s just going to torment you until you cave and date someone? Isn’t that going against some kind of constitutional law?”

Wonwoo, despite sounding completely apathetic, asks, “What are you going to do?” and Jihoon’s about to reply with a potent,  _“I don’t fucking know.”_ But before he can do so, Soonyoung is forcefully throwing his Capri Sun upon the table and declaring with vigor, “I say you get revenge! Fight fire with fire! Make her rue the day she-”

“Stop.” Jihoon says, cutting Soonyoung off before he can get too caught up in any fantasies of retribution and reprisal. “All that would do is turn the house into a complete and utter war-zoneand I refuse to stoop to her level.”

Soonyoung leans back in his seat, visibly discouraged. “Fine. Be boring and keep your morality in check.” He mutters. “But when she slips laxatives into your forenoon cup of sixty bean coffee, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Why sixty beans?” Wonwoo asks, idly turning the page of his novel.

“Because Beethoven used to drink the same thing every morning and Jihoon has a heart-on for him. Heart-on as in hard-on but-”

"But it's in the center of his cardiovascular system." Wonwoo concludes, nodding. "Yeah, I get it."

“Why don’t you try and convince your mom to change the rule?” Junhui suggests, finally shoving the jelly into his mouth. “Negotiate with her or something.”

“Have you _met_ my mother?” Jihoon deadpans. “Have you met _your_ aunt?”

Junhui purses his lips. “Good point.”

“If you just dated someone all of this would come to an end, right?” Wonwoo inquires.

“Right.”

“But you don’t want to date anyone, and if you forced yourself to do so that would result in you being miserable, and your step sister would benefit by dating Mingyu as well as by finding joy in your relationship-inflicted suffering.”

“Right again.”

“But if you don’t do what she wants, that would also mean you’re probably going to be persecuted to death.”

“Right x3”

“Well,” Wonwoo says, turning back to his copy of ' _Good Places To Hide A Body.'_ “It’s a lose-lose situation whether you date somebody or not.”

Usually, Jihoon really appreciates Wonwoo’s cold rationality, but for once he doesn’t want the bitter truth. He wants options and solutions to his current predicament. Options and solutions that none of his friends seem to be willing to provide, as Soonyoung’s now preoccupied with trying to lick ketchup off his elbow, and Junhui’s staring down into his empty jello tub, as if the answers to the most metaphysical of mysteries - like _Are human beings inherently good or evil?_ (They’re evil) and _What’s the meaning of life?_ (There isn’t one) - will magically eventuate alongside the remains of raspberry flavored gelatin.

Apparently they do, because Junhui then clicks his fingers and looks up wearing his ‘I Have A Potentially Problematic Plan Face’.

Jihoon doesn’t know many things unless those said things involve cynicism, music, or those trivial facts Wonwoo tells him sometimes that usually aren’t applicable to everyday conversation. ( _“Napoléon's penis was removed from his body during autopsy, displayed in a museum, and sold for $2,700 in the 1970’s.”_ isn’t exactly the best response to _“Nice weather we’re having, hey?”)_ But Jihoon _does_ know when Junhui’s wearing his ‘I Have A Potentially Problematic Plan Face’ and that nothing good can _ever_ come of it.

“If you don’t want to date anyone for real, then maybe you could just fake-date someone!”

A beat of silence.

“What?” They all reply in unison.

“Okay, hear me out,” Junhui begins, leaning forward in his seat eagerly, “We find a guy - preferably a gay one so things are a little less complicated - and we say: ‘ _Hey dude, Jihoon here is being tortured by his Satan-incarnate of a stepsister because she can’t date until he does. However, he has commitment issues, is emotionally inept, and doesn’t want to date anyone for real. So, like, could you maybe fake date him?_ ”

Soonyoung looks at Junhui as though he just commited mass genocide on the puppy population of both the northern and southern hemisphere. “No. _No way_.” He says, “I’ve ironically read and written enough fanfiction to know that is _not_ a good idea.”

“But _think_ about it!” Junhui continues fervently, turning to face his cousin. “Everybody wins! Jinae gets to be with Mingyu and will stop torturing you, and you won’t _actually_ have to date anyone!”

Jihoon is not convinced in any way, shape or form. “Who the _hell_ would voluntarily want to fake date me?!”

“Well, I would do it,” Junhui offers casually, “but we’re related and I don’t condone incest.”

Soonyoung steals a handful of potato tots from Wonwoo’s tray and adds; “I’d totally take one for the team if Yuna and I weren't in a budding relationship.”

Wonwoo, in response, looks at him pointedly. Not because Soonyoung took majority of his potato tots (aka the only saving grace of cafeteria food) but because: “She doesn’t even know who you are, Soonyoung.”

“But she does! Yesterday she asked me for a pen in the library!”

“Yeah, and then she said, “ _Thanks, Soobin._ ”

“Well, at least she was close...” Soonyoung mumbles quietly, drawing a sad face in the pool of ketchup that still remains on his elbow.

Wonwoo then turns to Jihoon and says, “I would fake-date you if the idea of doing anything remotely romantic with you didn’t make me exceedingly uncomfortable.”

Jihoon nods in genuine understanding. “The feeling is mutual.”

 

In 6th period Biology, the four quickly come to the realization that everything is bigger in Texas except for the openly gay citizenry of their high school. In fact, the only other guy who’s actually Out is Jeonghan Yoon, the Visual Arts Captain and Jihoon’s Arch Nemesis.

So. Yeah. That’s definitely _not_ happening. They have far too much beef that isn’t really beefy enough to actually be considered beef. (“It’s more like lightly salted lamb.” Soonyoung had once offered, to which Junhui replied, “No. It’s just unresolved sexual tension.”)

Junhui, however, also thinks the US government is run by reptilian people.

He is not a reliable source for anything and has a poor sense of judgment.

“I’m downloading Grindr.” Junhui says then, as if to further illustrate this aforementioned poor sense of judgment. “We gotta start looking for possible suitors somewhere.”

 

Naturally, Jihoon has many regrets.

Some of these regrets include: Joining the Marching Band, being born, and giving Nayoung Im his contact details because- _“Oh my gosh, Jihoon, the pigeon mail was totally just a joke!”_ and now he has 38 unread emails from her in his inbox.

But his biggest regret - the one he’ll be mentally marinating in his head for years to come - was talking his mother out of installing surveillance cameras in every room of the house.

Jihoon would like to think, that if he hadn’t done so, he would have CCTV footage catching Jinae in all her acts of criminality. And, subsequently, his mother might actually consider the prospect that her daughter is a certified monster and not the overachieving, goody-two-shoes, Trophy Child that everyone seems to think she is.

(Maybe then, when Jihoon says, “Mom, Jinae is taking everything that gives me any ounce of happiness within this cruel, uncaring universe and absolutely obliterating it.”

She won’t offhandedly reply, “You say that all the time, Jihoon.”

“But that was literally the first time I’ve ever said that.”

"You're beginning to sound like the boy who cried coyote."

"You mean the boy who cried wolf?"

"I meant what I said and I said what I meant. Now, please remove yourself from my Zen Garden, your negative energy is fogging up my chakras.”)

Although, Jihoon's convinced that even with empirical evidence, his mother still wouldn't do anything. It seems the only things she truly cares about are crushing her children's hopes and dreams, bringing the best casserole to PTA meetings, and her heavily handed rules. If she'd put 'BTW, Jinae, You're Not Allowed To Coerce Your Step-Brother Into Acquiring A Significant Other' under Rule #27 in fine print, _then_ she would have cared. Alas, this is not the case. 

Honestly, though, Jihoon thinks the shittiest part of this - when disregarding that all parts of it are really shitty - is that Jinae’s ultimately going to all this effort just to date some dumb boy.

Even _if_ that dumb boy’s middle name is  _‘_ Asian Adonis _,_ ’ and he would undoubtedly be #1 on a Top 5 Most Likely To Start Their Own Non Profit And Become A Much Nicer Version Of Gordon Ramsey list. At the end of the day, he’s still just some dumb boy who Jihoon’s holding partially accountable for the days upon days that he suffers at the hands of his stepsister’s physical, psychological and emotional warfare.

 

“Look at this,” Jihoon says, holding up the ransom note he’d found resting on his desk, the neatly cut-out letters of multiple different magazines leading to spell out;  _“Get a love life before I end your life in general.”_

Jisoo Hong, whom is sitting on his windowsill, directly across from Jihoon’s own, replies, “Don’t worry, dude. 2 Thessalonians 3:3: The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the Evil One.”

 

Jihoon, however, has found himself neither strengthened nor protected. He realises that he probably never will be whilst standing in the student car park, towards the end of what has possibly been the worst month of his entire life, as the sky cries in buckets above him.

The first thought Jihoon has when looking up at the darkened clouds is: _Same_ , and the second is:  _Where the fuck is Soonyoung and that God-awful Naruto umbrella he’s had since the age of seven?_

He’s been waiting here next to Gerald for the past twenty minutes. It’s gotten to the point that he briefly considers standing under the Bus Stop awnings like everyone else, where they’re all pushed together like vacuum packed sardines. But then Jihoon remembers that he’d rather stand and shiver in the rain then go against his philosophy of never making physical contact with another human being.

An unexpected ‘ _ding!_ ’ sounds from his phone.

 

 **Soonie:** WERE COMIN SSON I PROMIES ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ

 **Joonie:** Wtf is taking you guys so long?

 **Soonie** : WEH GOT CAUGHT UP BY MR KIM WHEN WEH CAME OUTTA HISTOREE BC

 **Soonie:** ‘Oh, Namjoon, hearing your stance on chronocentrism is absolutely enthralling. Please continue,’

 **Joonie:** I love how shit your texting is except for when it comes to quoting Wonwoo

 **Soonie:** dats te onlee thang u luv abt meh? (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

 **Joonie:** Yep. Now hurry your asses up :)

 **Soonie:** oh ghome the passsive aggressive smilee! Σヽ(ﾟДﾟ; )ﾉ ｱｯ

 

Jihoon taps out of the messaging app and goes to his playlists. Perhaps some  _'Lit Liszt’_ will distract him from the reality that he looks/feels like a wet dog due to the sky's tears incessantly pouring down on him.

Or at least they are until they’re suddenly not.

Jihoon looks up - there’s an umbrella above him that’s not a Naruto one. Jihoon turns to his left - there’s someone standing beside him that’s not Soonyoung.

Or Junhui.

Or Wonwoo.

Jihoon feels like he’s been transported to the mystical realm of some shitty Shōjo manga when he sees Seungcheol Choi. 

Cue the cherry blossoms, and the overly sentimental piano ballad, and the nosebleed-inducing pick up line.

“What’s with the baby pink cast?” Seungcheol asks, rather than hitting on him, and Jihoon spares a glance at the said plaster that’s currently strangling his wrist and forearm.

There’s an impressively detailed dick that Junhui had drawn glaringly across the front, a sticker of K.K. Slider placed just underneath it by Wonwoo, and a small quote left behind by Soonyoung that reads: ‘ _If you are broken, you do not have to stay broken. - Selena Gomez, 2016.’_

“It’s salmon, actually.” Jihoon replies soullessly, and for some unfathomable reason, this makes Seungcheol chuckle.

“What happened?” He asks, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow. “Did you break it tearing down Fascist Propaganda again?”

If Jihoon momentarily puts aside the fact that Seungcheol is obviously teasing him, he can be mildly surprised Seungcheol even remembers that interaction to begin with. It was forever ago. (It was three weeks ago.) But perhaps there’s just something about witnessing a belligerent Jihoon Lee in the wild that remains permanently ingrained in one's mind.

Or perhaps Jihoon’s giving himself way too much credit.

Perhaps he’s being too blunt when he fixes Seungcheol with a scowl and simply responds, “No.”

“You never did tell me how that try-out poster _was_ fascist propaganda, you know,”

“Well, it’s not like you asked.” Jihoon retorts, with an unnecessary amount of snark that seems to amuse Seungcheol rather than repel him. In fact, Jihoon realises his usual People Repelling Procedure is currently ineffective, when Seungcheol shifts a little closer, holds his umbrella a little higher, and replies; “Well, I’m asking now.”

Seungcheol Choi is, as we previously established, one of _those_ people. He clearly has a limitless supply of confidence, finds social interaction to be on the same difficulty level as Jiyeon’s 3-piece-puzzles, and when he talks people are inclined to listen and respond amicably. Solely because of this, Jihoon wants to ignore him.

He wants to tell Seungcheol to _go away_.

“You’re still relatively new, so I’ll excuse your ignorance.” Jihoon says instead. “But this school is basically a totalitarian regime and Mr Wright is the autocratic leader. He and the rest of the school board reign supreme and the student body must conform and submit to their rule lest they be killed. That try-out poster wasn’t just a try-out poster. It was a demonstration of their dogmatism, and complete disregard for anything that doesn’t involve facilitating their Sport Supremacy Agenda.”

Seungcheol snorts unattractively. Or at least it _should_ be unattractive. But it’s not. “You must be _super_ fun at parties.” He replies, voice tinted with a certain species of sarcasm that implies playfulness rather than hostility.

This, of course, doesn’t stop Jihoon from scowling at him though. “I don’t go to parties.”

“I figured.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Seungcheol gives Jihoon a brief once over, starting from his mud-stained runners, trailing over his distressed jeans, honing in on his t-shirt that has the words: _‘If you’re looking for a good time, call someone else’_ iron-printed across it in Comic Sans. (It was last year's DIY birthday present from Junhui, and happened to be Jihoon’s only clothing item that wasn’t left completely tarnished by Jinae.)

“You just seem like the type who wouldn’t.” Seungcheol answers, and then, as an afterthought, “You remind me of a Beatnik.”

“A Beat-what?”

“A Beatnik. Like, in the 1950’s, they were these people who wore berets and turtlenecks, and played the bongo drums whilst reciting poetry about how society and regimes were oppressing them and trying to make them conform.”

Am I A Beatnik? - The Quiz

  1. Have you ever worn a beret? _There was that one time..._
  2. Do you wear turtlenecks? _Purely for comfort purposes..._
  3. Can you play the bongo drums? _Very well, unfortunately..._
  4. Do you write poetry about oppressive societies and regimes? _No, but perhaps I should start?_



Jihoon furrows his eyes in that way he knows is intimidating. The way that strikes fear into the hearts of upperclassmen, and makes young children cry for their mothers in the candy aisle of the supermarket when they try to take the last packet of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Seungcheol, tragically, seems to be immune to his sharp and menacing gaze.

“I’m not a Beatnik.” Jihoon insists, crossing his arms against his chest.

Seungcheol hums, smiling a little. “Sounds like something a Beatnik would say.”

Jihoon is just about to give this cockmuppet a piece of his mind when he hears his obnoxious friends barrel into the student car park like a pack of wild mules.

“Ji!” Soonyoung calls out, sounding like he needs at least four puffs of his Ventolin inhaler. “Sorry we took forever! Please don’t subject us to grievous bodily harm!”

Unsurprisingly, Wonwoo is still talking about chronocentrism when they get to the minivan, but Junhui has stopped listening to his spiral about the importance of the Industrial Revolution to musingly observe Jihoon and Seungcheol. The former of whom can practically see the gears turning in his cousin’s fucked up brain.

When an invisible light bulb appears above Junhui’s head; his eyes looking akin to that of a mad scientist’s, screaming, " _Eureka! How could I not have thought of this before?!”_ an overwhelming sense of dread ties Jihoon’s intestines into knots.

“Junhui, _no_ -”

“Junhui, _yes!_ ” He replies, before turning to Seungcheol with a brightly lit smile and asking, “You’re into dudes, right?”

And there it is.

No introductions. No small talk. Just a straight up inquiry of Seungcheol’s sexuality. Actually, not even an inquiry, just a straight up _assumption._

For fucks sake.

“Oh My God, Junhui! You can’t just _ask_ people if they’re into dudes!” Soonyoung chastises, hitting him (albeit not hard enough) with one of the pointy edges of his infamous Naruto umbrella.

"Um..." Seungcheol begins, in a way that suggests he's unaccustomed to being asked such a question. (Jihoon would probably sympathize with him if this wasn’t the Moment Of Truth and he wasn’t preoccupied with sitting on the edge of his metaphorical seat.) “I don’t really care about gender, to be honest.” He admits, offering a relaxed shrug. “If I like someone, I like someone.”

Junhui’s grin slowly grows to the size of the Cheshire Cat’s. It’s pure, non-concentrated nightmare fuel.

“Gentlemen,” his asshole of a cousin says, joining his hands together as if in thanks to the heavens. “I think we just found Our Savior.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ALREADY SUCH A HOT MESS IM CACKLING
> 
> PS: I really am sorry this took so long to update. My main talents include perfectionism, procrastination and performance anxiety. I call them the Deadly P's and they undermine all and every form of productivity.
> 
> PPS: Thank you for reading! Feedback is, as always, much appreciated! Xx
> 
> PPPS: See ya'll in another 5 months lmfaooo~ I'm joking. I hope...


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